


It’ll Only Take A Minute, Ice.

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grinding, Kisses, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Penetrative Sex, Office Sex, Stains, Straddling, Teasing, handjobs, round two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: There Maverick sat: jeans open, bobbing in Kazansky’s lap. Iceman shivered at the jolt raging through him. He swore and Maverick, eyes wide, glanced down.“That’s it, that’s it. Ice, how quickly can you come? Wanna come in your pants like some horny kid?” Maverick laughed.“Fuck.” Iceman bellowed, instead of where his death glare should’ve been. “Yes.”





	It’ll Only Take A Minute, Ice.

“The hell are you still doin’ here, Kazansky?”

Iceman startled as he took in the muscular frame that crowded the door. He squinted as Maverick strutted over and hovered before his desk.

“Should’ve been outta here hours ago.” He stated as Iceman focused back on his papers.

Without another word Maverick slipped the chair back and practically fell into Iceman’s lap, who gasped, as Maverick ground their hips together.

“Not now, Mav.” His voice was strained.  
“_Fuck_.”

Maverick chuckled before his lips headed to Iceman’s neck, opening buttons and clutching at his pecs. Maverick’s hands enveloped his dog tags and he yanked them, coaxing Iceman closer. He crushed their lips together, tongue slipping into Iceman’s mouth as Iceman yelped. He rolled his hips up, catching Maverick’s tiny ass in one huge hand as the other gripped at his hair.

“Shit, Maverick. Stop.”

Maverick carried on stripping Iceman of his shirt.

“Mitchell,” Iceman’s voice was a near whisper, “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

“Then don’t.” Maverick winked. Iceman groaned.

Maverick rocked back and fourth, nails raking over Iceman’s bare chest as Iceman’s fingers made short work of Maverick’s bomber jacket and shirt. His deft fingers caught his belt and yanked it free.

There Maverick sat: jeans open, bobbing in Kazansky’s lap. Iceman shivered at the jolt raging through him. He swore and Maverick, eyes wide, glanced down.

“That’s it, that’s it. Ice, how quickly can you come? Wanna come in your pants like some horny kid?” Maverick laughed.

“_Fuck_.” Iceman bellowed, instead of where his death glare should’ve been. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Maverick was rutting harder against him now, hands skirting down Iceman’s side. He never touched him, his fingers avoided his crotch.

“Cheeky mother_fucker_..” Iceman spat, half into Maverick’s shoulder.

Iceman was thrusting upwards, a hand hastily undoing his belt. Maverick swatted it away.

“Come in your uniform, Ice. Come for me.”

He was met by a breathless ‘what?’ from Iceman who, thrusted quicker up against Maverick. His breaths were short and erratic, his head was lolling back as Maverick rode him harder.

Maverick was kissing him again, desperate and wet. Iceman panted into his mouth and- fuck, was it over fast.

He clawed at Maverick’s ass as he came and came, his thrusts turning to quakes that simmered into jolts. Maverick broke away with a chuckle, feeling the damp patch spread between them. He swept away the sweat from his eyes and glanced down at Iceman’s heaving chest, his sparkling eyes and his soiled khaki’s. He couldn’t help but stifle his laughter.

“Fucking hell, Mitchell. Fucking.. _hell_.” He panted as Maverick loomed above him. “Christ, I didn’t.. I shouldn’t.. I can do better. Come here.”

Maverick leant closer and Iceman dove into his jeans, baring him to air. Iceman’s strokes were rough and insistent, teasing with random patterns and tugs. Maverick was moaning, his hips buckled as Iceman bought him closer and closer. Within moments, Iceman was milking Maverick dry as he humped him with reckless abandon. Maverick swore as he collapsed forward, steadying himself on Iceman’s strong chest.

“Jesus.” He breathed, “Jesus Christ.”

Iceman peeled Maverick away from him but kept his steady hands at his sweat soaked sides. Together they surveyed the other and what had pooled between them. Iceman was blushing violently as he tried, to not much avail, at mopping Maverick up. He didn’t even make it too cleaning himself up as Maverick had already crawled off of him and was pulling him up and out of his desk chair.

Together they stumbled into the door frame as Iceman kissed him again, deep and dirty, grinding his cut hips up against him. The slick having seeped through his trousers that Maverick felt it through his jeans.

“Christ Kazansky, don’t tell me your getting-“

“-Yup.”

“_Again_?” Maverick sounded bewildered, eyes closing in on the strain of Iceman’s uniform.

Iceman knew that it was both a blessing and a curse but with Mitchell’s hungry eyes surveying him like that, damn, he couldn’t come that quick again. He wouldn’t allow it.

“At least let me come off of base this time, Mitchell.” He chuckled, taking Maverick’s hand in his as they left his office behind.

***

It wasn’t long until Iceman was on his knees in the men’s room, swallowing all that Maverick gave him.


End file.
